


Duet

by anr



Category: Australian Idol RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-11
Updated: 2006-10-11
Packaged: 2017-11-04 11:08:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/393151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anr/pseuds/anr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is <i>Lisa</i>. His almost, sorta, not-really-but-still-kinda, kid sister.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Duet

**Author's Note:**

> Post- _Final 8 (Disco)_. "Heart Of Glass" (Blondie).

Nobody goes to bed early on Sundays.

It's an adrenaline thing, Dean thinks. Adrenaline laced with (potentially) dangerous levels of joy, and fear, because everybody wants the night to last forever, just in case it's their last one here. Even those who did well during the night can't shake the dread, because they've all seen the best of the week end up in the bottom three come Monday, and nobody can predict what crack the Aussie public's smoking this weekend.

Dean was bottom three two weeks ago. He knows he'll be there again before this is all over.

"Dean?"

He startles at Lisa's voice, and almost knocks over his beer. He hadn't even heard the sliding door open. "Over here," he says.

He watches her take a hesitant step into the shadows, blinking several times until her eyes adjust. When she focuses on him, sitting against the back fence, a tired half-smile appears, and she crosses the grass to sit down beside him.

"Whatcha doing?"

He shrugs. "Nothing. Unwinding." He nods towards the house. "Others still going?"

She nods, and shifts so that she's sitting cross-legged. "I think Chris wants to go to bed, but everyone's still too wired. Jess and Lavina are watching the show again."

It drives him nuts the way they do that. He'll do the whole group thing -- it's kind of a Sunday night tradition now anyway, to watch the recording when they all get back to the house -- and he'll watch his own act again during the week if one of the coaches wants him to pick it apart, but as for viewing it all over and over and over again? God, no.

"Can I have some?"

It takes him a moment to realise she's talking about his beer, and for a second he thinks he should say no. She's only sixteen, after all.

The he remembers that he's only twenty, and that that's nowhere near old enough for him to be a dick unnecessarily. He passes her the bottle. "It's a little warm, sorry."

"That's okay." She barely makes a face when she drinks, which makes him feel oddly proud. He knows she's not a big beer drinker. After a couple of mouthfuls, though, she hands the bottle back and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "Thanks."

"Sure."

There's a brief burst of music from the house -- loud and jarring -- but it's silenced too quickly for Dean to pick the song. He glances a look at his watch and frowns. It's almost two -- Sam'll start trying to force them all to bed very soon. (He's a pretty easy-going guy, Sam -- and doubly-so on Sunday's, thank god -- but still, there's only so much he'll put up with after midnight.)

Lisa's plucking strands of grass, and shredding them into little pieces. A nervous habit, he thinks. Everyone -- including her -- talks about her needing her guitar like it's oxygen or something, and Dean's kinda the same, yeah, but he learnt how to control his breathing years ago so it's not so obvious in his case.

He's picking at the label on his beer, and he forces himself to stop.

"So," he says, just to break the silence. He usually doesn't have any trouble talking with Lisa -- or any of the girls in the house -- but they've never really done a post-show post-mortem together either. Mutto usually looked out for her afterwards.

"I hope I don't have to sing tomorrow."

He's not sure he's heard her right at first -- her head's down, and she has a tendency to speak too softly as it is -- but then the words sink in and his stomach lurches. He thinks they all fear having to sing their song twice the most. "Me either."

She looks up, all wide eyes and sincerity. "Oh, you won't for sure," she says. "You were _awesome_ tonight."

He was a showoff tonight, and he made sure the only thing everyone'll remember about his song come morning is the backflip. "Thanks."

"I mean it," she says, leaning forward slightly and touching his knee. "When you did that really fast part, all tongue-twistery? I was like, 'yeah! he did it!'." She smiles, and shrugs. "I know you were sorta worried about that."

He was, actually, and it's kinda cool that she noticed. "Thanks," he says again, this time with a little sincerity of his own. He tilts his beer bottle in her direction. "I liked your song choice."

She makes a face, and looks away. "I sucked," she says, matter-of-factly.

"Not really --" he starts, and then stops. "Okay, yeah, you did, a little." It was far from her best performance, and everyone knows it. "But the song choice? Definitely cool. Mark was on crack to think otherwise."

She rolls her eyes. "Oh, please."

"I'm serious!" As if to prove it, he hums a couple of bars, and then starts to sing. " _In between what I find is pleasing, and I'm feeling fine. Love is so confusing, there's no peace of mind._ " He's singing it a beat slower than she did on the show, but that doesn't matter.

Lisa laughs, and shakes her head, but the next thing he knows, she's singing too. " _If I fear I'm losing you, it's just no good, you teasing like you do._ "

Grinning, Dean follows her into the chorus. " _Once I had a love and it was a gas, soon turned out had a heart of glass. Seemed like the real thing only to find, mucho mistrust, love's gone behind._ "

Lisa breaks off, giggling, and Dean finds himself chuckling as well. "Probably not the best choice for our first duet," he admits, and that just seems to make Lisa laugh even more. When she doubles over somewhat, all he can see is the top of her head and the back of her shoulders, and for reasons that completely elude him, he can't help but stare as her hair slips off her nape.

Lisa's boyfriend, Stuart, is seventeen, into music, and when Dean met him three weeks ago, they talked about cars for fifteen minutes straight.

Huh. He doesn't know why he just remembered that.

The sliding door opens again, and they look over just as Sam sticks his head outside. "Twenty minutes, guys," he says. "Then lights out."

They both nod. "Thanks, Sam," says Lisa, and they watch him disappear back into the house.

Dean takes another pull of his beer, and then offers it to Lisa. She declines, shaking her head, so he finishes off the last couple of mouthfuls and tries to find a relatively level patch of grass to sit the bottle on. He doesn't have much luck, so he grabs his mobile phone and tries using that as a prop.

"We should do it," says Lisa, just as he lets go of the bottle.

It tips over. " _Sorry_?" Wow; he wonders if that's how Damien gets his falsetto too.

"Sing a duet," she says, pushing a swath of hair behind her ear, "you know. After."

Oh. "After tomorrow..." he says. "Or after, you know, _everything_."

"Everything," she says. "We should try it."

"A duet," he repeats. He finds it's strange that he needs to clarify this point -- this is _Lisa_. His almost, sorta, not-really-but-still-kinda, kid sister. What else would she be asking him?

"Yeah."

"When it's all over."

"Yeah." Her voice wavers just a little. "I mean, if you, you know, wanted to?"

"Sure." He clears his throat. "Sure," he says again, "that'd be cool."

And it really would be, he thinks. Lisa's got an awesome voice -- he'd love to see how that meshes with his in a full on performance.

"Sweet." She gives him a bright grin -- the same one that's made half of Australia fall in love with her -- and starts to move, pulling her hand off his knee and getting to her feet.

Huh, he thinks, staring at her hand. He'd forgotten she'd touched him earlier -- and apparently _kept_ touching him -- which is way weird. Usually he's a lot more conscious of his personal space.

"You coming in?" she asks, when she's standing and finished with dusting off her jeans.

"Yeah," he says, "in a minute." He picks up his phone. "Just gonna read a few more texts." Despite Telstra's best efforts to keep their mobile numbers private, the public still keeps getting a hold of them. He tries to read as many SMS's as he can, because the memory can only hold so much and he hates mass deleting, but it's hard to keep up sometimes. Free time is kinda a luxury these days.

"Okay." Another smile, this one softer. She starts back away. "Night, Dean."

He smiles back. "Night, Lis."

He watches her walk away, and go back inside, and only after the door has shut and she's disappeared from sight does he feel like he can breathe again.

(Which is strange, and bizarre, and so not the way he usually feels around her.)

He thinks he'll blame it on the adrenaline.

  


* * *

The End

**Author's Note:**

> ORIGINAL URL: <http://anr.livejournal.com/258091.html>


End file.
